| Proclamation in Gendiel |
| Summary: | Ramius Arran declares himself Zmeyarch of Gendiel, splitting from Aequor. |
| Date: | 1875-05-24 |
| Related: | Pawn Threatens Knight, Adriono's Response |
| NPCs: | NPC names, if relevant |
| Players: |
 |
Skald Leigh of Muicoire stroked his glossy brown whiskers in satisfaction, arms crossed over his big chest as he observed the copy of the Zmeyarch’s pronouncement fluttering from its nails.
“Looks good there, Leigh,” his friend commented, taking the mallet from him and standing at the foot of the steps.
“I thought so!”
“A good sheltered spot,” she went on, turning a little to look past him. Her easy grin faltered.. “A shame about the carvings, though. I really do like those; I hope they’re not especially old.”
“Hoh! It’ll be fine!” Leigh of Muicoire turned around with a laugh and threw an arm over her shoulders, turning away from the church door where it lay rather at an angle off one of its mighty pins. The other had been opened more politely, and the shattered crossbar shoved out of the way. “My nails are as gentle and inobtrusive as a hummingbird’s bill! I’d never harm such a beautiful piece of wood.” He patted the dome of his breastplate, the big signet on his thumb making a pok! of copper on steel. “It’s against my principles.”
Whatever Girei thought of that was interrupted by one of the Arrani Berserkers shouldering past the two of them. She put an arm out to catch the Muicoire skald back; one of the Inquisitors was being dragged along by the robes, panting and spitting curses. He kicked his legs and tore with his fingers at the thick leather bracer of the Berserker, but the huge, heavily tattoo’d man simply gave his fist a twist, gathering up the Inquisitor’s robes in a strangling grip around his neck and hauled the churchman up off the the ground so that his heels clattered and scrambled without purchase and the ugly curses turned to choking gasps.
Men and women gathered round the square to watch, standing in every doorway, behind the fountain, shading their eyes against the cold spring sun. Many held axes, hammers, staves, and one butcher stood under the awning of his business beside the deer hung on its hook by the hunter who’d brought it to him. Both watched with the tools of their trade gripped in bloodness hands, stopping their work to bear witness. A young man kept his even younger siblings behind him, and a matriarch with her long strands of glass and amber sat speaking to them, holding the youngest’s hand in her cracked and dry one. Her voice was calm, cicada-thready, and the only companion to the shouts and pleas of the churchmen, the burners, being dragged out one by one into the Gendiel wind. Many were listening to her, even if their eyes were on the square.
The Berserker dragged the man up to the rough stone fountain and hurled him onto his back, scattering chickens that’d gathered on the wide ring of brick there to pick among the planters of flowering chives.
“Godless, Many-worshipping pigs! You’ll burn in hell!” The Inquisitor floundered in his robes. They’d come a bare three tolls after the morning prayers, and his vestments tangled him. Later they were to put up another of the long stakes for burnings, but he could see that they’d chopped it down from the square. “Barbarians!”
The Berserker, sleeveless and the size of a fucking house, stepped onto the heavy robes between the man’s legs and reached forward to grip the man by the face, ignoring the slaps and desperate pounding blows rained on that arm and the one that glanced off his chin.
“Sure,” he shrugged, and grunting smashed the Inquisitor’s head in on the brick. “Whatever you like.”
Leigh didn’t let this deter him, stepping out of the healer’s grip with a fatman’s swagger. He was surprisingly light on his feet, considering how much he’d had to drink, and the sack of nails dangling like a porcupine’s inappropriate fantasy (rather dangerously, in Girei’s medical opinion) at his hip, by where he tucked the mallet. His niece would be appalled at the scratches on that side of his breastplate, Girei knew; it looked like some cat had been sharpening its claws there.
“We Muicoire are lovers of art! Curators of art!” He told her, spinning on one heel and causing that pokey sack of nails to swing and clash harmlessly off of the wide belt he wore, decorated with many sashes and knives and buckles and pouches stretched over his plate like the rings of some celestial body. “It is a shame about the other door, though, but I’m sure it’s fixable! That was the small battering ram, after all, one isn’t wasteful. Ah! But let us spread the news at… Ah! Yes! That will do nicely, I think! Hoh!” He gestured sweepingly and to no-one’s surprise at the first public house down the lane, where a pair of massive cedar trees had been strung for spring with bright green lamps to be lit at night. The barkeep and family were out front, watching the Berserkers with a nervous eye to property damage. “I hear they’ve got excellent mushroom soup here.”
If ever there were a natural penance for skalds, it might well be their inherent lack of judgement. Leigh threw his arms open wide with Girei’s nod and beamed, his voice booming off every building as he spun again and launched into a merry fighting song, proceeding at once down the street. The hammered onion-shaped ridges of his huge breastplate winked and shone in the sunshine, kept from its ultimate goal of sphericality by the stubborn protrusion of limbs and head. He really was magnificent. Everybody agreed.
“Sounds about right to me!” The Berserkers had it in hand. And Leigh’d be fine. Skalds were tougher than musicians! More romantic than fighters! Or was it slightly less good at two things instead of being really good at one thing? Well, nevermind. Follow your passion, that’s the ticket. And what good-hearted Arrani didn’t like a few exciting scars? Anyway, he had plenty of kids already. Girei slapped some dust from her leather-clad thigh and padded with long easy stride beside the singing, swaying skald.
So on they went, from village to village, town to hunter’s outpost, town to city, one of a number of teams doing just this thing all over Gendiel. Nailing the Zmeyarch’s announcement to town squares and church doors, and spreading word in every town hall and public house.
People of Gendiel,
As you may have already heard, we are currently considered enemies to the state of Aequor. In light of this grievous breach of trust, as well as the crown’s continued support of an inquisition inimical to our way of life, we therefore make this proclamation:
Gendiel hereby declares its independence from the Kingdom of Aequor. We cannot remain an accessory to the whims of a king turned tyrant. A wicked force has claimed the hearts and minds of those who we once knew as friends and good stewards. As our bonds of fealty have been severed, so do the old laws emerge again. An Arrani king sits on the throne of Herensurge once more, and he calls upon all his countrymen and the great patriots of this land to stand firm against the corruption ravaging the west. Before we were yoked to the crown of Aequor, we knew ourselves to be a land of the brave, of monster-slayers. When the world was at its darkest, it was our steel which split the night. So it was, and so it shall be again.
Effective immediately I, Zmeyarch Ramius Arran hereby declare:
I All remaining members of the Inquisition in Arrani lands are to be seized and put to the sword. We pay homage to the One above all, but this invasion into the very heart of our faith shall no longer be tolerated, and we are no longer bound to tolerate it. This foolishness shall end here and now.
II Lawful Sorcery is to be welcomed in the lands of Gendiel. A school of sorcery shall be established in the capital city, and all those gifted in the arcane arts are required to attend in order to hone and master their abilities. Tuition shall be paid for on loan from the Throne of Herensurge. Following this, a period of military service is required of all graduates who cannot repay their debt to the state, and is encouraged in those who can. We cannot afford to ignore such gifts, nor can we countenance hunting our fellow countrymen for the circumstances of their birth— but we cannot ignore that sorcery, untempered by discipline, can be a risk to our people. We are all Arrani, all of us shall stand together or all of us shall fall together.
III Our visit to Lyionesse has revealed that the corruption afflicting the crown may also extend to its spiritual leadership. Henceforth, the priesthood of the One in Gendiel is to stand independent from the house of cardinals until such time that we can ascertain the integrity of our brothers in the faith. We must take care, however- I expect all of us to continue to honor the One, and abide by the tenants of fraternity, camaraderie, benevolence and righteous action that are the foundations of our faith. I have instructed the priesthood to examine the bylaws of the faith in order to adapt them to the present realities in which we now live, absent of the potentially malign influences of the Enemy.
IV Honor duels are once more legal under the auspices of Herensurge. No more of this backstabbing, politicking nonsense. If you have something to say, then it shall be heard. If there is a disagreement, it shall be tended to in accordance to our laws. If for some reason there is no recourse but to put the argument to the sword to settle all bad blood, then it shall be. This doesn’t mean I want to see my people brawling out in the streets in broad daylight over unpaid bar tabs, but I tire of seeing hatred and rivalry simmer beneath a veneer of courtesy. The rules of honorable duelling shall be strictly enforced; no firearms are permitted, only blade, bludgeon or fist. Alternate competitions are, however, strongly encouraged. It is one thing to lose a good knight due to a misstep in a duel over a civil disagreement, it is another to instead simply be fed a poorly made omelette. Alternatives to duel by combat include but are not limited to: Cooking or brewing competitions, hunting competitions, competition by art, sculpture, poetry, sorcerous talent (only when both competitors are in fact sorcerers), or feats of agility, stamina and strength (for example: marksmanship, the caber toss, sauna duels and golf). All such competitions shall be adjudicated by a neutral body of peers and (except possibly in the case of sorcerous duels) open to public spectacle. Alternate forms of settlement in excess of these must be approved by the Throne of Herensurge before being declared official.
V The Pookas of the Dubhthach Hills are hereby recognized as citizens of Gendiel. They have dwelled in our lands for as long as we have been a people, and it is time for us to properly welcome them as our fellow countrymen. I expect all the good people of Gendiel to treat our new friends with courtesy and hospitality.
VI Similarly, all refugees who have fled to our lands in recent years are to be welcomed as fellow citizens. However, in light of the conflict we currently find ourselves embroiled in, further refugees must be examined to ensure the safety of our people. We shall welcome all those who come to us in good faith, but it is vital to remain vigilant. A bureau of immigration shall be established in order to accomodate all recent and future additions to our populace.
VII All hostilities with Bitralund are to cease immediately. All Arrani men at arms at field in Aequor have been ordered to return home, and to fight to return if they must.
VIII Additional trade routes shall be established and officialized between Gendiel and its neighbours, including Icenaila, Vir Sidus, Four Corners, and Eosphora.
IX Construction is to begin immediately on defensive fortifications to the western and southern borders of Gendiel. I have requested that the four houses leverage all necessary resources to establish the fortresses and walls that we will need to maintain the safety of our lands.
X Finally, worship of, and traditions rooted in the Many are no longer forbidden in Gendiel, and practitioners shall not be persecuted. We recognize that strict adherence to the old creeds will not serve us well in the future, and that many of our people have long since kept aspects of the old faith close to their hearts. The time has come to show that there can be coexistence between our faiths. Solidarity between countrymen is of greater import than religious differences in these troubled times.
We recognize that recent events have caused a great deal of unrest and confusion. We shall do our utmost to ensure that the transition back to an independent state is as seamless as possible, but turbulence is ultimately inevitable. We shall come into conflict with those who were once as close to us as brothers, and there is no doubt that the coming months will be difficult. But we are Arrani. We have endured greater tumult than this, and the years have not stripped our fangs or dulled our steel. Stand strong, do not lose heart, and we shall yet prevail and forge a brighter future together.
-Zmeyarch Ramius Arran,
King Under The Mountain,
Dragon-Throne of Herensurge.